The Late Night Wallowing of the Broken Hearted
by tigersbride
Summary: The darkness and silence was the perfect time for him to be alone with his thoughts- and the perfect time to make amends. One Shot.


It was as late in the night as it could be before someone called it early. There was no light bouncing off of the four walls to hit the bedposts, the wardrobe or the dresser, and the window was closed, the curtain still, so there was no sound other than his own breath to disturb Peter Bishop's thoughts.

He was musing, as he did so often at this time and so well, about his own failure to recognise the impersonator of his partner. In fact, he was simply wallowing in guilt and self-pity. The darkness and silence was the perfect time for him to be alone with his thoughts- regularly he would miss a night's sleep because of the most recent dangerous fringe division case, but when he got the chance it was the only real time he could let his guard down, because if they knew how he was feeling inside, they'd have sent him to shrink by now.

Tonight was no different from any other. There were no abnormal or defining characteristics yet that would make him remember this night in particular. As always he felt the tears threatening to spill, and as always he stoically held them in place. The images still flashed inside his head of the doppelganger below him, panting slightly with each thrust of his, images of her kisses with him, and images of the woman he really loved, kissing him, then lying so weak in hospital, then becoming angry and telling him she didn't want to be with him.

With this last thought, Peter rolled onto his side, eyes drooping down to stare at the floor, which was all he felt he was worthy of looking at. His father and Astrid had tried to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that he wasn't to blame, he couldn't have known, and yet he felt like he should have seen through her. Although he'd tried desperately to give Olivia the space she needed to get over everything that had happened, staying away from her shattered the already severed lobes of his dying heart. He was secretly glad he still had to see her at work, even if it was painful for them both.

He felt his eyes beginning to close, as they always did when his need for sleep began to outweigh his need for reminiscing and wallowing, but he jumped when his ears picked up the sound of movement downstairs. He reasoned that it was Walter, making another late night cheese and Nutella sandwich, probably soaked with milk. This managed to bring a slight curve to his lips, which faded as he heard softer than usual footsteps on the stairs.

His suspicions arose, and he pulled his head up, facing the door. As it opened in front of him, light shot through and temporarily blinded him so that he couldn't make out who was stood there, staring at him, but he didn't need to.

"Peter" came Olivia's voice, her tone laced with an underlying layer of authority he normally only heard her use when questioning a suspect. He stared at her blankly, confused. What the hell was she doing here at this time of night, and how did she get in? He hoped Walter hadn't left the front door open again.

She walked round to his side of the bed, close enough for him to make out the vest top and sweatpants she was wearing. Apparently she hadn't been able to sleep either. Without speaking, she hitched one leg over his body and pulled herself up so she was kneeling on top of him, and lowered her lips to his, kissing him deeply. His heart began to pound with the extra adrenaline that was released, and his mind ignored everything that wasn't her and how his own lips were moving against hers. He grabbed her back with one arm, pulling her closer to him, and took the back of her neck with another.

All sense of reason and logic had escaped him. In this moment the why did not matter, he didn't spare a thought for what had brought her to him on the cold night. These thoughts never made it into his consciousness, pushed further back as one finger traced the middle of his chest, past his solar plexus, his naval, and down to the elastic of his boxers. When the finger went under the tight band, he gasped into her, which led her to hesitate tauntingly on the border. The hairs on his arms stood up as she removed her mouth from his, kissing instead his neck, down to his chest and laying soft, sucking kisses in a vertical line toward where her finger lay. She drew it out, running the finger now down the outside of the boxers and dragging a firm pressure down the length of him, causing an animal groan to escape his lips.

The hand he had on her back he slipped down to her ass, and pulled her back up with a firm grip so that their lips met again. As he dragged the hand up again, he brought with it her vest top, pulling it over her head, breaking their kiss for a split second. She gulped when his other hand slipped over her breasts softly, and the one on her back caught the catch on her bra. She sat upright and pulled it off of her shoulders, letting him revel in the half naked sight of the real her as he ran his hands from her hips upward, outlining her curves as he cupped her breasts and she breathed deeply. His mind was nowhere near catching up with him; most of his mind had convinced itself he was asleep.

She lowered herself so that his stiff erection, still trapped in his boxers, was directly under her warm core, and ground herself upwards, rubbing him tightly. His groans became regular as she did this, before she smiled wickedly, and moved back, allowing her hand to take over the job of winding him up to breaking point. She stopped when his moans became irregular and a cold sweat had broken out on his body. He gulped, and pulled her back up, using his two fingers to dive inside her sweatpants and massage her clit heavily. He could feel how wet she was, and his urge for her became undeniable. He dragged her pants off, sucking on her neck as he did so, and she got to work on removing her boxers.

When they were both naked, she grabbed his cock and hovered it at her entrance until he appeared to be begging. Slowly then, she let him in, and felt him push into her with considerable force and urgency. They picked up a rhythm that worked for them both, and he thrust upwards, she pushed down. Rapidly, they both felt themselves reaching a breaking point. Her muscles started to contract and her breaths matched his as she came around him, triggering him to spill into her with a moan. She gasped, kissing him softly as she felt the end of their climaxes approach. Peter's arms wrapped her into him and held her close as they caught their breaths back.

They lay in silence for a few more minutes while Peter tried to understand what had just happened. He kept an arm on her to be sure she was still there. Had she finally forgiven him?

"L-Olivia?" he whispered softly. He felt her turn to look at him. "What was that?"

She rolled back over then, and he wondered if she was upset. It took a few moments before she spoke, enough to panic him slightly.

"I don't want to keep letting her win, Peter" she said quietly but adamantly.

"What do you mean?" He chanced. She turned again to face him.

" – I haven't forgiven you, yet..." She began. "But the silence between us wasn't helping anyone, and I want to reclaim a part of my life from her."

"So what, you're using me?" His tone was hurt, and slightly angry.

She paused, which was possibly the worst thing she could have done. Peter removed his hand from her and rested it instead on his face as he felt like he was dying. She noticed this, and looked at him sadly.

"No, Peter" she whispered "It's not like that, honestly."

"Then what is it?" The volume of his voice had raised and Olivia had to clamp his mouth with her hand to stop Walter hearing.

"It's hard for me to say" she admitted. "But, the thing is, I know you didn't mean to... well I know you didn't mean to. And... but... I just felt like I was letting her win, if I wasn't taking back what's mine, and I'm sick of everything in my life being hers."

Peter gulped, feeling slightly sick. The sex they'd just had was a product of revenge in her mind, not of anything more. "Right" he nodded, rolling onto his side so he wasn't facing her and she couldn't see the hurt that was evident in his face.

"Peter..." she moaned, putting an arm around his waist and nuzzling her face into his back. "Peter even if I wanted to get rid of my feelings for you I couldn't. It wouldn't happen. Hell I tried when I found out, but I can't not want you, and that's what makes you mine now, Peter, not hers." She paused and pulled him so he was lying on his back again and met his eyes. "I don't want to be with you properly, because it still hurts. But I know it's hard for you too, and I'm trying, and I want to get to a stage where I do want to be with you"

"Ok" he smiled sadly, and as she leant down to kiss him again, he felt it probably wouldn't be too long before they reached that point.

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**Hope you enjoyed this little one shot that came to me overnight. Please R&R**


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